


don't let me break this

by perfectlyrose



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 13:33:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17204297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectlyrose/pseuds/perfectlyrose
Summary: It's been three years and a trip to hell and back since the last time John set eyes on Rose Tyler. He doesn't feel like there's anything about himself worth saving any longer, but Rose has never given up on him before and isn't starting now.





	don't let me break this

**Author's Note:**

> for blueyesandleatherjacket on tumblr as part of the dwsecretsanta exchange!
> 
> sorry I'm a bit late getting this out and I hope you enjoy it!

John startles at the pounding on his door. It echoes through the mostly empty space of his flat and he lays his head back against the arm of his beat up sofa, ignoring the rapid beat of his heart with ease that spoke of too much practice.

Hopefully whoever it is will give up soon and leave him to continue decaying here.

“I know you’re in there, Doctor.” Rose’s voice calls out. It’s instantly recognizable, even after all this time. “Open the damn door or I will pick the lock.” She pauses, letting him consider her threat. “You know I can do it.”

“Don’t feel up to company right now,” John replies. His voice cracks over the first word, rusty from disuse and dehydration.

“You really don’t have a choice.”

There’s steel lacing her words and he knows good and well that she is going to get into his flat whether he lets her in or not. She might go easier on him if she doesn’t have to break in only to find him flat on his back with junk food debris surrounding him.

“Fine, give me a mo’,” he says.

John drags himself off the sofa and scoops up an armful of trash to deposit it in the bin. He considers going to find a clean shirt but decides Rose likely won’t wait that long.

“If you don’t open this door in ten seconds, I’m getting out my lockpicks.”

_ Suspicion confirmed _ , he thinks as he flips the lock. Some things never change.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” John says. He pulls the door open just wide enough to fit his shoulders, effectively barring entry to his estranged best friend who’s waiting on his doorstep.

“I have every right to get my knickers in a twist, John Chesterton,” Rose snarls. She drives a finger into his chest, the plastic grocery bags hanging off her elbow crinkling with the movement. “You haven’t answered your phone in three days.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s dead.”

“I thought you might be dead,” she shoots back. “Glad to see that you’re not since I can’t fix that by finding a damn charger.”

“Why are you here, Rose?” His eyebrows draw together. “How are you here? Pretty sure I didn’t give you my new address.”

She snorts. “Like that has ever stopped me. Let me in and I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me and maybe I’ll let you in.”

“You’re still so damn stubborn,” she grumbles. Rose shifts the weight of the grocery bags and when she looks back up at him her eyes are soft. “I was worried about you. I  _ am  _ worried about you. You look like shit, Doctor.”

“Thanks,” John says dryly. “Generally feel like it too.” He pauses and then adds, “You know no one calls me that anymore.”

“I do. You going to let me in or do I need to start lobbing groceries over your shoulder so they actually make it out of the hallway?”

He rolls his eyes and steps back, leaving her room to step inside his flat. “Have you actually learned how to cook in the last three years or did you buy a collection of canned goods?”

“Don’t insult the person bringing you food. You used to have better manners than that.”

“No I didn’t.”

“No you didn’t,” Rose agrees with a laugh.

The sound feels foreign in his farce of a home. There are no soft places for it to sink into and linger, so it bounces off empty corners and stacks of untouched cardboard boxes instead.

She brushes past him and heads straight for the kitchen. He isn’t sure if he’s relieved or insulted that she doesn’t give the boxes or the general barren appearance more than a cursory look on her way by.

“And I still can’t cook for shit but I am more than capable of buying groceries that people who aren’t banned from multiple kitchens can cook. Got you green things and everything.” 

“Fancy,” he drawls.

Rose sets the bags down in a crunch of plastic and starts pulling things out. She snags a slightly moldy loaf of bread off the counter and throws it in the bin. She replaces it with a fresh loaf and then starts in on loading the fridge with basic staples.

John watches in silence as she finishes that and opens the cupboards. Her eyebrows climb as she takes in the packaged foods and packets of instant noodles.

“This looks like my cupboards,” she says. She pushes things to the side and starts stacking cans of soup and cans of beans in the cleared space. “You used to make fun of my love of instant ramen.”

“It’s still terrible,” he says, lip curling in disgust. “But it’s easy.”

“And delicious.”

He scoffs.

Rose closes the cabinets with a slam and turns. She levels a serious look on him, whiskey-brown eyes clouded with concern and emotions he wasn’t ready to dig into yet.

“You might consider ghosting your best friend a normal thing to do but I don’t and I’m not letting it happen again,” she tells him. “I haven’t seen you in three years, Doctor.  _ Three years _ . I thought…” she sucks in a breath, trying to cover the way her voice starts to waver. “I thought you were  _ dead _ , John.”

He doesn’t know how she’s still looking him in the eye, how she has this much courage. He has a medal in one of his unpacked boxes, a commendation for his valor and bravery, and he wants to run, to cower.

She’s standing tall in his kitchen and he’s shaking and about two breaths from fleeing.

John takes a deep breath. “Almost was there for a while,” he admits.

Rose leans against the counter, grip tight against the laminate. “I’m really glad you’re not.”

The silence hangs heavy in the small kitchen. John wants to agree that he’s glad too, but the words stick in his throat.

“I missed you,” he says instead. These words don’t stick, they eagerly burst out from the spot next to his heart where they’ve lived since the last time he saw her.

(Rose is a little more worn now but the extra years sit well on her. She looks more at ease with herself and it’s bittersweet to realize that he wasn’t around to witness the change.)

(He’s willing to bet that her smile is still the same -- bright as a supernova and able to knock him breathless with its brilliance -- and hopes that he’s lucky enough to see it again.)

“Why’d you disappear for so long?” Rose asks. “I only knew you were back in the city because I was still listed as an emergency contact on some medical form you filled out.”

“I…” he swallows, trying to find the right words that will strike the balance between making the hurt expression on her face ease and still being truthful, “I didn’t know I was going to be gone so long. Once I was deployed, I couldn’t contact anyone, even if I wanted to.”

“You didn’t even tell me you were going.” She breaks eye contact finally, looking down at the empty grocery bags on the floor. “I’m not pushing for an explanation, not now at least. I’m just… I’m glad you made it back, Doctor.”

He nods. “I’m glad they called you. I’m not sure I would’ve convinced myself to reach out. I’m glad you’re still stubborn as ever, too.”

Rose pushes off from the counter and closes the distance between them. She hesitates before reaching out for his hand, waiting for him to nod before making contact.

His palm prickles at the contact. He doesn’t know the last time someone touched him outside of a medical context. Something inside of him breaks open at the gentle press of her skin against his. 

John uses their joined hands to pull her closer and wraps her in a hug. It’s so easy to tuck her into his chest, to drop his head and rest his cheek against the top of her hair. She still smells like strawberries and vanilla and the band around his chest loosens as he breathes in the familiar scent.

He feels like he’s made up entirely of sharp edges and delicate bruises and broken pieces. He’d been far from whole when he’d left, but it’s more pronounced now.

He doesn’t know if he’s even worth trying to save.

Rose squeezes him tighter and presses her forehead into his chest. “I missed you too, you know. I missed you so much.”

He doesn’t know if he’s worth trying to save, but if anyone’s going to try it’s going to be Rose. She is the only person he trusts to help pick up all the shards of who he used to be. 

(She has jagged edges of her own, has fresh breaks that he knows nothing about, and he’s seen her recreate herself from nothing more than ashes.)

John can’t vocalize it yet but as he stands there with Rose in his arms, he puts his whole heart in her hands and, for the first time in years, dares to hope for a future.

 


End file.
